Page 33 of A Dead Man’s Pulse (Trident Security Omega Team #1)

It was easy to figure out where Georgia Branneth’s battered body had ended up.

There were some discarded, stained bandages and latex gloves in the middle of the road from when the paramedics had worked to stabilize her and place her on a backboard for transport.

A small pool of blood was another indication of how serious her injuries were.

The local cops had immediately shut down the road in both directions upon arrival, and an accident investigation team was in the process of measuring tire marks and photographing everything for evidence.

They’d determine how fast the vehicle had been going before the driver had hit the brakes and impacted the victim.

So far, there was no press in sight, and hopefully it stayed that way for now before they got a whiff on the big story that one of the Kink Killer’s victims may have escaped and survived.

The questions were, what direction had the naked woman been coming from and where had she been held?

Had she, in fact, been kidnapped by the same sick bastard who’d killed all those other women? If she had, how did she escape?

SAC Parrish had commandeered the scene and was doling out orders to the police chief, who had responded, and several of his officers who weren’t already busy with the accident scene and detours around it.

“All right, our victim came from somewhere nearby. It’s possible she escaped from a vehicle, but I don’t think that’s the case.

She was being held close by. Chief, I want you and your men to take the north side of the accident, check both sides of the road.

Look for bare footprints or any indication of how she ended up on the road.

We’ll take this south side. Go at least a mile.

If we don’t find anything, we’ll spread out into the woods.

I have about a dozen agents responding. Call in whomever you can to help search, but make sure they don’t disturb any evidence.

This is the first real chance we’ve gotten to catch this bastard. ”

If the older chief had any problem with being ordered about by a fed in his own jurisdiction, he didn’t show it.

“Our fire department has a search and rescue team we can utilize. They know their stuff about tracking in these woods and won’t fuck up a crime scene if they can help it.

I can have them out here within fifteen minutes. ”

“Do it.”

It took a while, but Logan found a set of prints, that had to belong to Georgia, coming out of the woods on the opposite side of the road from where she’d been hit, about an eighth of a mile to the south.

When the police chief strode over, Ian pointed a little further down.

“Chief, what’s that dirt road for? Where’s it lead? ”

“Basically, it’s a fire road . . . there’s a bunch of them along this strip, every mile or two, in case of a brush fire, we can get the needed equipment further in. They go in about a mile or so.”

A uniformed officer with a K9 partner approached, and Parrish nodded toward Logan and Dakota.

“You two, follow the dog. Chief, send two more uniforms with them just in case. I want this fucking bastard alive but not at the cost of one of my team or yours. Sawyer, let’s go see what’s down that road.

We’ll walk it, so we don’t obliterate any evidence.

” Several federal agents had pulled up to the scene, and the SAC waved them over. “Davis. Melendez. You’re with me too.”

Once two more male officers joined them, the K9 handler got the animal on Georgia’s scent, and the others followed them into the foliage.

Their weapons were drawn and at the ready as they had no idea what was waiting for them at the end of the trail.

Dakota shifted the bulletproof vest Sawyer had loaned her to wear over her T-shirt.

It was for a much larger male, but was better than nothing, and Logan had helped her adjust the Velcro straps so it was as tight as they could get it.

The female versions were curved slightly to accommodate their breasts, but with the extra room this one afforded her, the girls weren’t squished.

Logan’s vest had been in the back of his SUV which the two of them had followed Sawyer in.

Dakota was glad she’d thrown on a pair of jeans with her sneakers after their workout and sex-filled shower at the gym—it would keep her legs from getting scratched up in the brush.

As the dog weaved back and forth, his nose following the microscopic particles carrying the scent of the victim, Dakota and the others kept their eyes peeled on their surroundings.

The K9 was a passive tracking dog, which meant he could walk them right up to their suspect—that was ideal with missing children or Alzheimer’s patients, but not something you wanted when tracking a violent serial killer.

The big-eared Belgian Malinois reminded Dakota of the dogs-in-training back at the Trident compound. Keeping her eyes front, she addressed Logan to her right. “How’s FUBAR doing?”

He’d told her about the pup that was probably going to fail out of the aggressive training during one of their stakeout shifts—it was the one she’d seen roll over for a belly rub the day she’d met her partner.

“Kat says he’s a hopeless romantic and isn’t cut out for guard duty.

Babs officially adopted him the other day, and Tori, who trained Russell’s service dog, is going to help her get him trained as a therapy dog.

That way she can bring him to the veteran hospital when she goes for her therapy and stuff. ”

“Awesome. Glad he’s going to a good home.”

“Yeah. Him and Jagger have their own couch in the garage now and have become best buds.”

While they trudged through the woods, they could occasionally hear and see the others on the dirt road, heading in the same direction parallel to them.

It seemed as if the victim had known it was there and used it as a guide but was smart enough to know she might run into her abductor if she’d gotten too close.

“Hey, look over there,” one of the cops to Dakota’s left prompted.

“Looks like an old utility building. There’s a few of them around from back in the 70s and 80s, but the ones in this area were pretty much abandoned when the park rangers had their new headquarters built about two miles north of here.

They moved all the equipment that was stored in these over there. ”

The concrete structure blended well with its thick, surrounding flora.

There was only a dark green door visible on the side they could see and no windows.

Keeping her weapon in her right, dominant hand, Dakota pulled out the FBI portable radio she’d been given back out on the road.

She brought it to her mouth and pressed the transmit button. “Parrish. Sawyer.”

The former’s voice followed a squelch. “Parrish. Go.”

“I think we’re just about parallel to you. There’s an old utility building about two hundred yards ahead of us, and the K9 is heading right for it. No signs of being occupied at the moment.”

“Copy. Proceed with caution. We’ll meet you there.”

The tension among the five in the woods had increased and talking dropped to a minimum as the K9 lead them to the structure.

While the two patrol officers covered the only door they could see, the handler held his partner back as Logan and Dakota circled around to see if there were any windows or other entrances.

They worked well together, covering each other as they rounded the corners in silence so as to not alert anyone inside of their presence.

By the time they completed the inspection, Parrish, Sawyer, and the other two feds had arrived.

Logan used hand signals to indicate to the others that there was only the one way in and out.

Logan and Dakota stacked up behind Sawyer, who was holding a Maglite in his non-gun hand, on one side of the door jamb, weapons at the ready.

They waited as one of the cops, standing on the opposite side, grabbed the doorknob and gently tried to turn it.

When it did so without hesitation, he nodded at the trio, and then mouthed a countdown from three to one.

Yanking hard, he swung the door wide, and Sawyer pivoted inside with Logan and Dakota on his heels, sweeping the room with his flashlight and weapon in the same direction.

No one was inside, but there was no mistaking the fact they’d found where the Kink Killer had slaughtered his victims. Dried blood coated the floor, ceiling, and one of the walls beside a large St. Andrew’s cross.

A hospital bed with leather restraints and chains attached also had blood on them .

. . fresher blood. Somehow, Georgia Branneth had managed to escape the bonds and run for her life.

Only, now, she had a different fight for that same life.

Parrish stepped inside the large room and used his own flashlight to illuminate it.

There was a switch for an uncovered light bulb hanging from the middle of the ceiling, but until they got the crime scene techs in there to inspect and photograph everything, nothing was to be disturbed if it could be prevented.

The SAC took one last glance around then turned back to the door, pulling out his phone.

“Everyone out. Let’s hope the techs can find something we can use to catch this bastard, once and for all. ”